


What's for Dinner

by phlight



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Shoe Kink, bottom!T.O.P, topri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-05 09:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15860883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlight/pseuds/phlight
Summary: Seunghyun serves up one of Seungri's favourite dishes.





	What's for Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> Hat tip to the prompter for getting me to write something I never would have written myself...hope it comes somewhat close to what you imagined. Also, credit to emilyseyo for suggesting an element of the ending. It was too silly for me to not write it.
> 
>  **Prompt:** Seungri and Seunghyun have a very specific kink/roleplay scenario where in Seungri is the man of the house and Seunghyun is the housewife. Think very traditional/oldschool/1950's male/female roles. The start of this scenario is when Seungri will call Seunghyun expecting dinner to be ready when he gets home. That's their sort of code word/phrase to let Seunghyun know that Seungri wants to fuck him in the kitchen when he gets home. The roleplay is that Seungri will be faux angry about the lack of dinner and then "punish" his wife sexually. Seunghyun will be timid/reluctant about Seungri forcing himself on him, but can't help enjoying Seungri's forcefulness and manhandling.  
>  **Pairing:** topri  
>  **Rating:** Mature/Explicit  
>  **Wants:** Completely consensual roleplay set in a canon universe. Seunghyun preferably in light drag. No makeup/wigs, but maybe some heels and a dress/apron. Seungri in typical businessman attire. Bottom Seunghyun, top Seungri. Maybe Seungri throws in a couple of jujitsu moves/hold to maneuver Seunghyun how he wants.  
>  **Don't wants:** bottom seungri, no straight up domestic abuse(physical, name calling, etc), it's a consensual scenario.  
>  **Extra stuff:** In the after they both act really loving and gentle to each other.

Seunghyun is in the closet, and he couldn’t be happier.  
  
His natural high is a mixture of relief and anticipation, with a dash of self-satisfaction that keeps putting a smile on his face and a spring in his step.  
  
He’s even caught himself humming a few times. Gross.  
  
No, he really loves feeling this way, though he tries not to hold on to the moment too tight. He’s just going to be in it, as soon as he’s in the shoes.  
  
He’d spent most of the morning on a less pleasant edge, waiting for the call. He had a hunch from Seungri’s mood at their meeting with the YG execs that it was coming, but he couldn’t know exactly when. Seunghyun didn’t mind the temporary transfer of anxious energy too much, because he knew it would eventually lead to one hell of a release.  
  
Seungri had been pent up about something for sure. He’d entered the board room dressed like a banker, suit sober and hair sleek, though he ditched his tie after Youngbae teased him about it for the fifth time in as many minutes. Assistants passed out cappuccinos and bullet-pointed printouts while Seunghyun spent the opening thirty seconds of the meeting conducting an important study of Seungri’s revealed throat. He sought answers to the most pressing questions of his day, such as:  Why isn’t telekinesis real?  Supposing it was, and Seunghyun suddenly wielded its powers, would he be able to stop himself at just one more shirt button?  
  
Then Daesung had cleared _his_ throat and poked Seunghyun in the thigh under the table. He barely even squeaked when Seunghyun pinched him back. A shoddy way to say thanks, but Seunghyun knew Daesung would get the message. Seunghyun managed to actually pay attention for another thirty seconds...until he saw Seungri’s slip. He looked at his watch first, then side-eyed his phone, thumbing at a notification banner. Seunghyun endured a disapproving glance from Daesung to slip his own phone out of his pocket. He fired off a quick message under the table.  
  
[Glad you took off the tie. Please note, I don’t approve of your pants either.]  
  
This was a flagrant lie, because that suit was tailored to perfection. Seunghyun added a peach emoji for clarification purposes.  
  
He saw Seungri’s eyes move as he read the message, followed by the twitch of his nose with what Seunghyun hoped was suppressed amusement. Seunghyun barely had time to relish the hollowed-out drop of excitement in his chest when their eyes met before Seungri looked back down at his phone.  
  
Seunghyun sent another peach emoji, followed by a couple of hands. He took pride in his intellectual mobile discourse, but Seungri didn’t have a chance to respond. Jiyong chose that exact moment — maybe on purpose, the perceptive fucker — for Seungri to offer his opinion on a super serious business matter. Seungri’s face betrayed nothing as he answered, crisp and cool, turning off his phone screen like he hadn’t been distracted at all. Maybe he hadn’t been, the multitasking freak. Seunghyun had been tempted to up his game, maybe with a lowkey hand-resting-in-my-lap-for-no-particular-reason selca, but Seungri sort of took over the meeting from there. Once he got going he was like the Terminator.  He absolutely would not stop analysing sales figures, ever, until you were dead.  
  
Though clearly in his element, he’d seemed tense to Seunghyun, and even confrontational over some of their new contract terms. It was true that they were finally senior to some at the table, but it still gave Seunghyun a shock (and a thrill) to see Seungri assert himself as an authority figure in the company.  
  
Youngbae had been openly miffed when Seungri headed for the elevators after the meeting concluded, almost without saying goodbye. Jiyong caught him and made him pause for a goodhearted leader lecture and a promise to get together for drinks later in the week. Meanwhile,  Hyunsuk hyung had prevented Seunghyun and Daesung from joining in, forcing them to feign fascination over pictures of the new vacation home he’d purchased for his wife’s birthday.  Seunghyun stole as many glances over at the other three as he could, until he finally caught one back. Then Seungri passed through the elevator doors, phone already raised to his ear.

 

* * *

 

Seunghyun’s phone rang in his hand shortly before noon. He was already back in his pajamas, smoking and shooting lyrical shit back and forth with Jiyong on LINE.  
  
“I hope this call means you’re taking a lunch break.”  
  
Seungri has been skipping meals in anticipation of the upcoming comeback. Might explain some of the crankiness.  
  
“Are you busy tonight?”  
  
“Not at all, Lee sajangnim.”  
  
“Don’t call me that.”  
  
“Okay.” Seunghyun laughed and tapped the ash off his cigarette before he went on. “What can I do for you, my dongsaeng?”  
  
“My last meeting is at seven. I expect dinner on the table by eight.”  
  
Seunghyun coughed. Wrong title again. He’d been expecting something, but not necessarily this. Speaking of expectations.  
  
It’s kind of perfect though. He has fuck all in the way of fresh food in the house. A bit of a shame because he really would like to cook for Seungri, something rich and fattening, but that’s not the point. The point is...  
  
“Anything particular you’re in the mood for?”  
  
“You know what I like.”  
  
Seunghyun did.  


* * *

 

So now he’s on his knees, shoving aside what seems like the 80th pair of high top sneakers he’ll probably never wear again.  
  
At last Seunghyun sits back with the box in his lap, brushing his fingers over its embossed label before he opens the lid.  He always saves these for last, puts them on right before Seungri gets home.  They’re the finishing touch, as well as the reason this whole thing between them started.  
  
The first pair of shoes Seungri gifted to him were a more conventional sort. Seunghyun had acted like kind of a shit about the gesture for a few minutes, because that was his SOP at the time. But then he’d decided to try for a compliment. Seungri was great to tease, but the shoes were actually great too.  
  
“Thanks. They’re nice. Very pretty,” Seunghyun said.  Seungri blinked.  
  
“Pretty?”  
  
“Yeah, don’t you think so?” Seunghyun held up one shoe on each side of his face like oversized ears (well, even more oversized), grinning and tilting his head back and forth until Seungri snorted. Then he took them down again, did his very best to convey his sincere appreciation.  “Really, they are.” He liked the way the patent leather accents caught the light.  
  
“I’ve seen prettier.” Seungri’s eyes had taken on a dark shine of their own. “And I’ve seen your internet history. I know what kind of shoes you really like.”  
  
Seunghyun had barked out a surprised laugh, then reached around and whacked Seungri on the ass with one of his gifts before he could get away. Nosy little shit. He was right, though. Seunghyun definitely liked women in high heels — almost as much as he liked Seungri’s ass in more or less anything. Preferably less of anything, but those pictures weren’t online.  
  
A week or so later he’d received a package at his door, anonymous sender.  He lifted the silk dust bag out of the box to reveal patent leather pumps, spiked with four inch stilettos. He just stared for awhile, concluding that even in his size, their appeal was undeniable.  And, _they were his size_. He couldn’t _not_ try them on, at which point he realised they weren’t merely a good fit. They felt made for him, as if the shoemaker had received his exact measurements. This was a stylist noona consult, real stalker level shit, so of course Seunghyun knew exactly who the culprit was.  
  
His first instinct once the shoes were on was to take a picture and send it to Jiyong, because fashion. Or maybe to Daesung, just to freak him out. But something had come over him as he looked at himself in the mirror. Something that had him breathing harder and heavier the longer he looked, until he almost rolled an ankle getting the shoes off — as fast as possible, so he could get his jeans down, and then getting the shoes back on as fast as possible — and then he was just standing there in his shirt and underwear, sweating, all of the chaotic thoughts flashing through his mind focussing down to two laser-beamed matters of fact:

  1. His legs looked fucking amazing.
  2. He didn’t want to show anyone but Seungri.



And what had Seungri’s reply been, upon receipt of Seunghyun’s exclusive selca?  
  
“Wow! Pretty.”  
  
Seungri might have meant the whole thing as a joke, but Seunghyun knew when he’d been bested. He agonised over a reply for a good ten minutes, until he was worried Seungri would get bored or busy with some other demand on his time. Then Seungyun invited — no, demanded — Seungri come over as soon as possible, so that he could demonstrate how well he could walk in the heels already. The excuse wasn’t an entirely flimsy one; Seunghyun had remarkable balance in them for someone so often accused of being uncoordinated.  
  
Even so, Seungri put him through his literal paces, had Seunghyun spin around and strut, crossing the room back and forth several times before he instructed him to kneel. After, he’d collapsed onto the couch, tugging Seunghyun up by the shirt collar to straddle his licked-clean lap. Seunghyun returned his languid kisses with barely restrained appetite, trying to savour the bittersweet aftertaste of Seungri in his mouth.  He hoped it wouldn’t be too long before Seungri could serve up a second helping...at which point the time had occurred to him. When Seunghyun offered to make dinner, Seungri’s eyes drifted to the discarded shoes on the floor.  
  
“Okay. If you put those back on.”  
  
Seunghyun considered it a minor miracle he’d managed to prepare anything that night without cutting himself or burning the place down. Seungri couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off him.  It was weird as fuck — apparently they both had a thing for high heels, who knew? — but as Seunghyun wiped the evidence of one of his most mind-altering orgasms in recent memory off his kitchen floor, he decided to just go with it.  Fuck being ashamed of being weird. He was already getting banged out by his maknae on a semi-regular basis (and realising how much he needed that from Seungri had been beyond strange at first too, but it was also so fucking _right_ , so outrageously perfect.) It was about time they incorporated something experimental into their repertoire.  Seunghyun only wore the shoes once every so often, but the kink had evolved over time, from mere costume to an entire performance. When Seungri said he wanted dinner, Seunghyun made sure he was prepped. The dinner never was, but Seunghyun? Always.    
  
He’s almost ready now. After the shoes are on he heads to the living room, double checking the scene. His hand trembles a bit as a he takes a last, hasty drag on his cigarette, then crushes the butt in an ashtray. He blows his smoke out of the balcony door and makes sure to leave it cracked.  He mostly wants the look of idleness, with only a bit of smell.  Seungri doesn’t appreciate either one, but Seunghyun doesn’t want to actually upset him. He’s just trying to rile him a little, give the fantasy some spice. Seunghyun knows that whatever had been bothering Seungri today has nothing to do with him. They have plenty of their own disagreements, but tonight will be separate from all of it.  
  
Seunghyun hums while he sets out a few ingredients and kitchen tools on his spotless countertops. He wants Seungri to see him from the waist up first, clean and conventional in one of his many white button downs. He rolls the sleeves up his forearms to save them from theoretical sauce splatter.  
  
Seungri won’t see what else he’s wearing until he walks around the counter, but Seunghyun knows what he likes.  
  
He checks his watch. Seungri’s been late a few times before, which was fun. Nice to have something to throw back in his face, watch his brows go up before his eyes narrow and he moves in.  
  
At ten past eight he sets to actual work, mostly to distract himself. He pulls a few things out of the fridge, leftovers from an impromptu gathering with friends a day or so before. It’d all be new to Seungri. He’s been too busy lately, leaves Seunghyun on his own more often than he likes, which is saying something.  
  
He uncorks a bottle of wine too, more for after, but a sip or two right now won’t hurt. He’s deciding whether or not to put the cheese back in the fridge when he hears the sound of the security system. He swallows his mouthful and sets his glass down.  
  
Seungri walks in like he owns the place, and everything in it. He doesn’t even look over at Seunghyun at first; he’s loosening his tie and tapping something into his phone with one hand, before he sets both down on a side table. Then he passes by several stunning pieces of artwork, hardly sparing a glance, like he couldn’t imagine anything less worthy of his eyesight.  
  
Seunghyun pretends to hurry. He spills a blob of fig jam on the counter and curses to himself. He can feel Seungri watching him now, so he swipes at the sweet sauce with his thumb. He looks up as he licks, eyes half-lidded and tongue purposeful, but there’s nothing put on about the rush he feels when he sees the expression on Seungri’s face.  
  
“Ah,” he says, looking back down at the cheese board with a tight smile. Fuck, he can hardly swallow. “You finally made it.”  
  
Seungri breathes in, lets it out slow but heavy through his nose like a sigh. He rests a palm on top of the cool cooktop, at the opposite end of the counter from Seunghyun. Seunghyun rearranges a small pile of nuts for the third time.  
  
Seungri’s nails tap against the ceramic glass.  
  
“Did you have a nice day at work?” Seunghyun asks, biting his lip as he looks up again.  
  
“No,” Seungri says curtly. “What’s for dinner?”  
  
Seunghyun is holding his breath without realising. Fuck, sometimes it almost hurts to look at Seungri. He’s changed so much over the years, but he’s still the same. Every feature of his face reflects a maddening arrogant streak, shot all to hell by an even more enticing vulnerability. He tries to hide both qualities, depending on his audience, but  Seunghyun knows him too well by now to miss the subtleties. He spent a long time framing Seungri as fun to fuck with, but once they started fucking...these days Seunghyun wants to be whatever Seungri needs.  
  
He is, of course, selfish enough to hope his own desires fulfill those needs. Right this second he wants to run the tip of his tongue over the angle of Seungri’s jaw, lick up over his chin, and devour his frown.  
  
He releases his lip with the just right amount of wet pop, eyes going shiny and innocent.  
  
“Have some of this,” Seunghyun says, gesturing down at the board. “The nuts pair so well with the goat cheese. And this—“  
  
Seunghyun takes the two steps across the floor to the other counter, picking up the glass he’d poured for Seungri. He walks over to him with the slightest sway, the shoes transforming him with every step.  He knows Seungri has seen them, but those sharp eyes don’t leave his face.  
  
“I’m hungry, Seunghyun,” he says, waving away the drink.  
  
“Okay.” Seunghyun turns and walks back to get the cheese board. He can feel the way his hips move and he wants hands on them, wants to be held down and forced to be still while every instinct tells him to writhe and grind. He goes back to Seungri and holds out the food with a peacemaking little grin. “I didn’t have enough time to cook, but I know you like—“  
  
“Didn’t have time?”  
  
“You know,” Seunghyun pauses, like he’s searching for an excuse. “After the meeting I worked with Jiyong. And then I had to take a shower.”  
  
It doesn’t really matter what Seunghyun says. This is just the part where Seungri is gathering his energy, sizing Seunghyun up to measure his challenge. He finally looks away when Seunghyun plucks an olive from the board and brings it up to Seungri’s mouth. Seunghyun’s smile broadens at the small crack in Seungri’s stony facade. He hesitates, then opens his mouth.  
  
Seunghyun pops the olive into his own.  
  
Seungri freezes, then closes his mouth again, his jaw clenching as he steps closer, well into Seunghyun’s space.  
  
Seunghyun bites down. The brine fills his mouth, and he’s suddenly starving, craving all manner of flavours.  
  
“You do this on purpose,” Seungri says, quiet.  
  
“Mm?” Seunghyun hums out his question around the olive. He sucks on it before he moves it into his cheek, his mental movie skipping ahead several scenes. In this one Seungri’s feeding him the entire length of his rock hard cock, pressing on the back of his head to hold him in place. He waits until Seunghyun gags before he pulls out to shoot hot cum all over his tongue and face.  
  
God. Seunghyun rolls his eyes as he swallows the olive. He’s pulled out of his fantasy by Seungri scoffing.  
  
“Didn’t have time.” He steps in even closer, and now Seunghyun can smell him, a masculine waft of cologne and whatever it is that makes Seunghyun want to eat him alive. “You didn’t do anything today besides sit around and wait.”  
  
As if this isn’t worth waiting for, Seunghyun thinks, but he’s not supposed to agree.  
  
“I meant to cook, it’s just—the time got away from me, and I didn’t have much food in the house.”  
   
“You disrespect me on purpose,” Seungri says again, slipping a finger under the band of Seunghyun’s apron. “You like it when I’m frustrated.”  
  
Seunghyun doesn’t have it in him to say no to that, script or no script, so he breaks eye contact and makes as if to turn away. That’s when one finger becomes an entire hand, and somehow he’s been spun to the face the counter and had his crotch thoroughly handled at the same time.  
  
These briefs are Seungri’s favorite — short and tight, pink and soft. He manipulates Seunghyun’s cock until it’s pointing up toward his belly, stroking one finger up and down the ridge on the underside before he pulls out on the waistband, letting it snap back on the sensitive tip. Seunghyun utters a short cry, then another when Seungri cups and squeezes him, just a bit too hard.  
  
Seunghyun attempts an escape by making another deliberate error, canting his ass up and back. He has perfect aim, hits his target directly. He struggles in Seungri’s grip, but what he’s really doing is rubbing up against Seungri through his suit pants. It’s nice to reciprocate, after all.  
  
Seungri hisses, presses back into him for a heartbeat, then squeezes him again before his fingers wander a bit lower, pressing, testing.  
  
“Tell me why dinner isn’t ready.”  
  
“Because I forgot,” Seunghyun says, and he doesn’t have to fake the tremor in his voice. Seungri is far too good with his hands.  
  
“Bullshit. I had a long fucking day, and I want a good reason.” Seungri snaps, abandoning Seunghyun thick and throbbing at the front. He feels hands at his back now, untying the bow on his apron.  
  
“No,” Seunghyun says, starting to turn and reach back. He’s roughly readjusted back into position. He smiles at the Bacons before he regains control of his expression, then reaches back again. This time his hand is caught and held. It’d be sweet, in another context.  Seunghyun loves to hold hands.  
  
“You don’t need this. You didn’t make anything,” Seungri whisks the fabric away from Seunghyun’s hips and flings it behind them.  
  
 “I _wanted_ to,” Seunghyun insists, then stiffens when fingers slide up the back of his thigh, inside  the leg of his briefs. Seunghyun tightens up, but Seungri finds him out anyway. One finger slips inside of him, so easy Seunghyun almost feels real shame.  He presses his hot front against the cool cabinet, knowing that if he tries to move on Seungri’s finger he’ll just pull it out. Seunghyun is rewarded for his intimate understanding by the addition of another finger. He holds his breath again and fights to keep still, while Seungri builds his case.  
  
“I think,” he says, fucking Seunghyun with a slow spiral, “that you couldn’t wait.”  He pauses with the full length of his fingers inside, spreading them into a V. Seunghyun grunts, the stretch going straight to his cock. “What were you really doing all day?”  
  
Seungri doesn’t wait for an answer before he pulls out. The whine in Seunghyun’s voice is legit.  
  
“I told you, I was working!”  
  
“Working,” Seungri says, then laughs. The sound is contagious, makes Seunghyun smile again. “On yourself, maybe.”  
  
Seunghyun’s actually surprised when Seungri sweeps his legs apart with one of his own. He gasps as he loses his balance on the heels, but the counter is there to save him. Seungri pushes him the rest of the way down, until his face is right next to the cheese board.  
  
There’s a short tug of war when Seungri attempts to get Seunghyun’s briefs down as well, but the winner is quickly decided when Seungri pins Seunghyun’s wrist between their bodies. His movements, like his words, are considered but somewhat dangerous.  
  
“Hold still and let me see that pretty wet hole, since it’s the only thing you have ready for me.”  
  
Well, that was pleasantly filthy. Seunghyun whimpers in relief and arousal as the pressure on his wrist is released, and the pressure in his cock  increases. The briefs are somewhere around his thighs seconds after, and then he’s being spread open. Seungri will confirm what he already knows — there’s no mistaking it. Seunghyun listens to the steadiness of Seungri’s breathing as he looks at him, and he must see how Seunghyun’s already a little open, a little pinker than usual, how he’d be so sensitive to touch.  
  
He hears the soft purr of an expensive zipper. The noise alone does it for him, makes his heart pound and his cock jump. He wonders if he’ll make it much past the initial penetration before he’s begging to come, but then it gets better. For Seunghyun, this moment of anticipation — the silky smooth skin of Seungri’s cockhead circling his hole, gently probing, telling sweet lies and soothing it into a false sense of security —  
  
This is the best.    
  
Followed shortly by the next best, when Seunghyun’s early evening prep pays off.  It’s still a stretch, because Seungri is always a lot to handle, but there isn’t much pain at all.  It’s so big and so _good_ , makes pleasure spread over his back and pool in his cock in a warm, inescapable wave. Seunghyun’s moan starts low, but Seungri cuts him off with a quick tilt of his hips. He’s not even halfway in yet, but when he moves again Seunghyun cries out, bringing his legs together on instinct.  His body tells him it’s too much too soon, but there’s nowhere for him to go, except to take Seungri in deeper.  
  
If only. It would be bliss.  
  
“Like it?” Seungri asks, as though he doesn’t understand exactly where he is and what he’s doing. He’s barely thrusting, just rocking his hips back and forth enough to make sure Seunghyun is acutely aware of his presence.  He’s right there, right _fucking_ there.  
  
Seunghyun thinks he might be able to take a little more of this without giving in and pushing back, but he definitely can’t talk at the moment. So of course Seungri tries to strike up a friendly conversation.  
  
“Don’t know why you act like you don’t want it. This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”  
  
“Uhhmm—“  
  
“Isn’t it?”  
  
“Yes,” Seunghyun admits, his voice small all on its own because he’s trying very hard not to disobey their unwritten rules.  But his body is starting to take over. He’s clenching and releasing with every stroke of Seungri over his prostate, his toes are trying to curl inside the narrow confines of his shoes, and his cock is sandwiched between the cabinet and his belly, sliding around in a slick mess of his own making. He might be able to get off like this… He decides he’s not going to, and just the thought of trying to hold back edges him closer than ever.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes so he’s not looking at cheese when he comes. He has enough odd sexual associations thanks to Seungri already.  
  
Seungri pulls out, way too soon again, and tugs Seunghyun away from his other source of friction. Seunghyun stumbles back into him, protesting the loss of cock and furniture with another low moan.  He starts to turn in Seungri’s arms.  
  
“Seungri—”  
  
Seungri turns both of them, then pushes Seunghyun out past arm’s length.  
  
“Take off your pants.”  
  
Seunghyun stands there, cock tenting out the lower portion of his shirt as he looks at Seungri’s, flushed and slick and completely up. From being inside of him. The knowledge makes a twinge of rather gay pride twist in his chest, chased by a hot burst of greed. That’s meant for him, and he wants it. Preferably back in him, ASAP. But Seunghyun gets really dedicated to his roles. He’s going to take this one to the finale if he can.  
  
Seungri strokes himself as Seunghyun steps out of his briefs, one leg at a time. He steals glances at Seungri as he does, unwilling to look away, but he’s careful not to snag the fabric on his heels. Seunghyun holds the twist of cloth in front of himself, waiting for direction.  
  
Seungri seems lost in thought as he thumbs at the tip of his cock. Seunghyun swallows hard against his craving. He lets his desperation guide his expression, imploring Seungri with big eyes, who comes to with a quick set of blinks.  
  
“Turn around for me,” he says, swiping his tongue across his lips.  
  
Seunghyun does, careful again on the heels. His calves are are getting stiff, but even so, the way the shoes make him move... Seunghyun feels poised. Maybe even graceful. Definitely fuckable.  
  
“Pull your shirt up.”  
  
Seunghyun does. He stays still as ordinary sounds start behind him —a drawer opening, papers rifling, the pop of a plastic cap— but he can only listen to the suggestively rhythmic slide of skin on skin for a few seconds or so before he has to turn his head to watch.  
  
Seungri smirks at him, the first smile Seunghyun’s seen on his face all day. Seunghyun watches as he gets both hands into the action, and Seungri’s tongue can’t seem to stay in his mouth at all. Seunghyun shifts his weight from one foot to the other, like he’s getting impatient (he is), pops his ass out like he’s horny (he is).  The choreography is basic, but effective.  
  
Seungri’s slippery hands are on on his hips in a second, then sliding down to cup his ass. He caresses him, then squeezes harder than before, waiting for Seunghyun to gasp before he slides both hands in between his cheeks, applying more and more lube until Seunghyun is sinfully slick, drops of excess running down his thighs. Headed for his shoes.  
  
Seungri will have to buy him new ones. What a shame.  
  
Seungri squeezes his ass again, but he can barely keep a hold on him now. He settles for patting the bottom curves of Seunghyun’s ass; Seunghyun braces himself. There’s an air of finality to the slap when it comes. Seunghyun flinches like he didn’t expect it, huffs a short whine out of his nose.  
  
“Get on the floor.”  
  
Shit, really? Cool.  He’d figured it would be another encounter with the counter.  
  
Instead he’s grubbing up the spotless floor under his sweating palms.  
  
He hears Seungri follow him down, then senses him, through body heat or the smallest disruptions in space. He shudders and arches into the touch when blunt nails trace down his spine, lifting away when they reach his lower back.  
  
There’s a warm, unmistakable weight laid between his cheeks.  
  
Seungri’s voice is quiet again.  
  
“Put it in.”  
  
Bearing his weight on one arm and knees is tough, but it all pays off. Seunghyun looks back, watching Seungri’s face as he reaches behind himself. This is a complex look to pull off — lustful trepidation? — but he gives it the Serious Actor treatment it deserves, and the way Seungri goes a little stupid in the face makes him think he nailed it.  
  
Once he gets the head inside, Seunghyun barely has to move; Seungri’s jaw drops as he slides all the way home, his brow furrowing and hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Seunghyun decides to bring out the big guns.  
  
“Oppa,” he gasps, emphasising the word with a series of quick pulses on Seungri. “Please!“  
  
It’s a nonspecific complaint, but it works. Seungri curses and backs out of Seunghyun in a hurry. It’s so fucking cute that Seunghyun almost laughs. Seungri notices, loses the dazed look in his eyes in an instant.  
  
His moves are clean, efficient, so quick Seunghyun is never quite sure exactly _how_ — and though Seungri has offered to teach him, Seunghyun prefers to remain ignorant, for times just like this. All he wants to understand is Seungri’s power, to feel the sweep of him at shoulder, at hip. Tonight the world turns at his behest.  
  
The chill of the floor seeps through the damp cotton between his shoulder blades. Seungri is between his legs, looking down at him, cold and beautiful.  Like a true idol, Seunghyun thinks, a golden god. His pants are already down by his knees and now he’s unbuttoning his shirt, revealing all that Seunghyun had imagined earlier that morning. He watches, silent but attentive, loving the roll of Seungri’s shoulders, the flex of his chest. The discarded shirt joins Seunghyun’s apron a few feet away from them.  
  
“Wanted to see your face while I fuck your ass,” Seungri explains, shifting forward on his knees. He holds his cock in one hand, drags it up along Seunghyun’s crack, passing by his hole and back down again, over and over.  Seunghyun jumps at every tease.  
  
He turns his head as Seungri leans down fast, warm breath tickling his ear, and the crook of his neck under his jaw.  
  
“Gonna fuck you til you come,” Seungri murmurs. “You can at least do that for me? Come on my cock?”  
  
Um, at least. Seunghyun swallows, visibly he hopes, and nods.  
  
“Promise me.”  
  
“I promise, oppa,” he sighs, arching his back a little when Seungri touches him again and still doesn’t put it back in.  
  
“Promise what?”  
  
“I promise to come.”  
  
Ohhh, fuck _yes_ — it might be a break of character, but Seunghyun lets his eyes roll back a little when Seungri gives him the first inch. Seungri might get his wish in the next ten seconds or so, depending on how this goes.  
  
“Love getting your ass fucked hard don’t you. Just laying there and taking it.”  
  
“Oh god,” Seunghyun whispers, jerking when he feels a hot tongue in the whorls of one ear, and his ass is suddenly, wonderfully full of cock. The next one is a swift drag out and an even faster in, enough for Seunghyun to anticipate getting the breath fucked out of him. “Yes!”  
  
Seungri raises up on both hands, and looking into his eyes while this happens is just as mesmerising as ever. A real mindfuck.  
  
Also, Seunghyun shouldn’t have laughed at him for almost busting his nut a few seconds ago.  
  
“Yes what,” Seungri asks.  
  
“Yes, fuck me hard!” Bam. That was extremely articulate.  
  
Seungri gives him one decent thrust and Seunghyun is rolling with the pleasure of it.  
  
“Mmm, fuck. Your ass feels so good.” Seungri smiles, shameless. He gives it to him again. “Are you close already?”  
  
“Yes.”  Seunghyun grits his teeth at the telltale trembling in his thighs that signals impending eruption. “Oh fuck. Harder.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
He spreads Seunghyun’s thighs wider with his own, tilting forward and using his body weight to  hold Seunghyun down, using him exactly the way he’d been asking for since this morning, until there’s nothing left between them but this crushing heat, so intense that Seunghyun knows hell would make them shiver.  
  
And the end, no matter what scenario they set up at the start, is often the same — Seungri in control even as he loses it, his laboured breaths and the slap of skin on skin ramping up to match the drive of his hips, Seunghyun not sure if he can take this one second longer, this _being fucked_ , the way no one else has or can or ever will fuck him — and then Seungri’s kissing him, thrusting his tongue in Seunghyun’s mouth as deep as his cock is in his ass, growling and reaching between them to grope at his cock.  
  
Seungri barely touches him and Seunghyun starts to come, the frantic pleasure turning his body into a live wire, all shocks and jolts. Seungri grips  Seunghyun by cock and by hip, using them for purchase and to keep his ass in place as he gets harder, the noises and movements of his mouth on Seunghyun’s bordering on obscene. For Seunghyun it’s too much, but also not enough. He breaks character, grabbing Seungri’s ass to ride out these final, urgent seconds — and ahh, god, feeling Seungri come tonight totally makes up for the ass ache tomorrow.  
  
Seunghyun’s trying to decide which parts of his body have possibly melted — brain? spine? legs? — while Seungri kisses them both down, but slow now, satisfied, moaning his exhales into Seunghyun’s mouth. When he starts to pull back Seunghyun won’t let him go. He brings his legs together fast, squeezing Seungri up and in, hands leaving Seungri’s ass so he can hold him by the shoulders, too.  
  
“More,” he says against swollen lips, smiling when Seungri groans. But he obliges with a lazy swing of his hips, even though Seunghyun can tell he’s going soft. It feels like he’s on the verge of slipping out, but it’s still so fucking good, to be so warm and close and full of Seungri.  
  
Seunghyun runs his fingers over the short hairs at the back of Seungri’s neck, then cups less-full-than-they-should-be cheeks. Seungri stops kissing him, though their noses still touch.  Seunghyun waits for him to open his eyes.  
  
“Can I have my dick back?” Seungri slurs. He’s shaking. Seunghyun is fiercely smitten, and Seungri probably doesn’t even notice.  
  
“Only if you look at me.”  
  
“But I’m tired.”  
  
“Then the answer is no. I’m keeping it.”  
  
Seungri pouts, then cracks his eyes open.  
  
“Yaaaah, why so pretty?”  
  
Seungri looks away, starts to grumble something stroppy and dismissive, so Seunghyun shuts him up with another kiss, laughing when his eyes widen. They keep them open for this kiss this time, a mutual challenge, especially when Seungri relaxes his full weight onto him. Seunghyun lets him slide out as Seungri gives him one last peck and snuggles in place, sighing at the fingers back in his hair. Seunghyun lets him rest for a minute, but when Seungri grows dangerously quiet he realises the kitchen floor probably isn’t where they want to spend rest of the night.  
  
“Yah. Seungri. What do you want for dinner?”  
  
“Can’t I just sleep.”  
  
“No. You have to eat.” This is true.  
  
“I don’t want to.” A lie.  
  
“Too bad, because I already arranged an order for delivery.”  
  
Seungri raises himself back up on his elbows.  
  
“An order of what?”  
  
“Oh my god, you’re alive!”  
  
“Aish. I really wanted that olive.”  
  
“I thought you said you didn’t want to eat.”  
  
Seungri huffs and collapses back on him.  
  
“Okay, okay I’ll tell you what it is.” Seunghyun pauses for dramatic effect. “Not ramen.”  
  
Seungri laughs weakly.  
  
“Seriously, let me up. I can’t answer the door like this.”  
  
“I like you like this,” Seungri says, rolling over on his back. His front is thoroughly smeared with Seunghyun.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Well.” Seunghyun eyes him, liking everything he sees to be quite fucking honest. “You’re a mess.”  
  
“Says the guy with an assload of cum.”  
  
Seunghyun gasps, pretending to be offended. He starts to get up and is swiftly reminded of his footwear when he almost goes down again.  
  
Seungri starts giggling again.  
  
“Ya, shut up. I’d like to see you get up with those around your ankles,” Seunghyun says, pointing at  Seungri’s formerly impeccable suit pants. Seunghyun finally gets his legs under him. He lets Seungri get a reasonably long look in before he pokes at one thigh with the tip of his heel.  
  
“Hey!” Seungri yelps.  
  
“Idiot, get up and get in the shower with me before Youngbae gets here.”  
  
Seungri gawps at him from a half-seated position. Then he blushes, face to chest.  
  
“Why is Youngbae coming over!”  
  
“I told him to make some more of that stew you refused to eat at his place the other night. He’s really getting offended. You should feel bad.”  
  
“Oh my fucking god, he’s the one with four percent body fat or some shit, how can he—“  
  
“You’re different from him, did you notice?”  Seunghyun offers him a hand. Seungri takes it, looking decidedly swoony when he gets up. “And you push yourself ten times harder. _Just eat the food._ ”  
  
Seungri has no response for that, so he just scrubs his tired face in his hands. Seunghyun pulls him into a hug by his hand, appreciating the added height advantage afforded to him by the footwear as he tucks his chin over Seungri’s head.  
  
“I asked him to be my personal chef once,” he says.  Seungri laughs against his chest.  
  
“And he didn’t take you up on it?”  
  
“He said he already has too many clients. Fussier than me. They cry a lot if he makes something they don’t like.”  
  
“Haha. How dare he choose his children over you.”  
  
“I know, right? He’s known me for longer.”  
  
“I still can’t believe he agreed to come over tonight.” Seungri steps out of the hug to start pulling up his pants.  
  
“He said he would on the condition he doesn’t have to see your bare ass.”  
  
Seungri zips up, rolling his eyes.  
  
“Exactly, that’s what I said. As if he wouldn’t love to see it.”  
  
“You didn’t say that.“  
  
“And then _he_ said that’s the real reason he’s bringing food over. He’s worried about your ass disappearing.”  
  
“Stop!” Seungri laughs, reaching out to grab him. Seunghyun lets himself be caught, because he wants to be. He can’t run in these shoes, anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> Dong Youngbae is an angel walking this earth who deserves better than my stupid stew cameos, amen.


End file.
